Earl of Kinross

by Meara Platt

  She expected Marcus to dismiss her remarks as hysterical, but he frowned thoughtfully. In typical Marcus fashion, he said nothing for the longest time. “Lara, do you truly believe he means to take guardianship of you?”

  “I know it for a fact. He doesn’t hide his lecherous thoughts from me. Of course, to the rest of the world, he’s a pillar of the community. He claims some relation to the Duke of Wiltfordshire, that’s how he’s wormed himself into the highest circles. He sits on the High Court and has been appointed special magistrate to the House of Lords. I cannot be his only victim. He’s done this to others, I’m sure. I don’t mean taking advantage of young women, although I have no doubt he’s done that. For the right price, he’ll do anything to anyone, and won’t feel a moment’s remorse. He wasn’t born into wealth despite his relation to Wiltfordshire, so I suspect he maintains his life of opulence by taking bribes.”

  “Tell me all you know about him. I’ll ask around at the gaming hells.” He released her hand with a reassuring squeeze. There was a lovely strength to his touch. Without it, she quickly felt bereft. “Sounds to me, he’s a man with an expensive gambling habit. His clerks must know something of this.”

  Lara nodded. “He must give them a cut of his profits to keep them quiet. His bailiffs, too. I’ve managed to get no information out of them so far.”

  “They know who you are and that puts them on their guard. I’ll have a Bow Street runner investigate. I know of a very good man, Homer Barrow. He’ll get the truth out of them.”

  Lara took a bite of her eggs. “Thank you, Marcus. Oh, these are delicious.”

  He smiled. “Getting your appetite back?”

  She nodded again, this time scooping a kipper into her mouth.

  He watched her eat, his gaze almost indulgent.

  She set her plate aside and swallowed the bite she’d just taken. “Marcus…” She spoke his name softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “So am I. If only I’d known what was happening at the time, I would have–”

  “You were fighting on the Continent,” she said, interrupting him before he’d gotten out the words. “What could you have done while so far away? You wouldn’t have abandoned your post to come to Hugh’s aid. If you had, they would have shot you as a deserter.”

  His eyes, the auburn-black of charred chestnuts, reflected his anger. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lara. I would have thought of something to get myself back here in time to help. I would have done something. He’s my best friend.”

  “For this very reason, Hugh kept the news from you. He did not want your life ruined for his sake.”

  He took a sip of his coffee then calmly set down his cup. “Lara, I want your promise on an important matter.”

  “Promises are meant to be broken,” she muttered, still feeling the hurt of her broken betrothal.

  “No, they’re not. I will not allow you to break this one.”

  She was at the end of her tether and he was piling demands on her? “If you want me to promise that I’ll stay home and behave like a lady, knitting scarves and embroidering handkerchiefs while the lives of my father and brother continue to be destroyed, I’ll tell you right now I will not agree to it. They are not going to hang Hugh while there’s breath left in me.”

  “Lara–”

  “They’ve dragged my father’s reputation through the muck, imprisoned him in his own home, and may soon start confiscating his holdings. I will not sit idly by and do nothing. I am not a useless lump of clay. I would have clawed my way into Portsmouth Prison to free my brother, if I’d had to.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  She frowned at him. “Only because he managed to escape on his own. But I was on my way there and ready to do it. No one, not even my father, was going to stop me. Nor will I be stopped now. Not here or anywhere. I will shoot any trespasser who dares take so much as a grain of corn from our Stratton estates. Lord Wexley, that cowardly, pathetic excuse for a weasel who broke off our betrothal a month before our wedding was to take place, asked the same of me and I refused.”

  Marcus was usually very hard to read, but she detected his lips twitch in amusement. She deepened her frown, for there was nothing laughable about a broken betrothal and she hadn’t expected Marcus to be so callous.

  “I’m sure the decision to distance himself from you and your family was not an easy one for him to make,” he said, keeping his steady gaze on her as he spoke. “In truth, he must have loved you very much to hold out hope for as long as he did.”

  “He didn’t love me.” She tried to keep the heartache out of her voice, but the words came out in a breathy tremble and Marcus noticed. “He was enamored of my dowry. As soon as he realized it was about to be confiscated, the slimy toad couldn’t run away from me fast enough. He knew the charges against my father and Hugh were all lies, a villainous put up job, but he didn’t care. Nor did he or his family ever lift a finger to help me. To my shame, I even stooped to begging him. He refused.”

  “Not well done of Wexley. You’re better off rid of him. Did you love him, Lara?”

  She could not bear to meet his gaze, for he would clearly see into her very soul. “I thought I did. He was a cheerful fellow and nice looking. It was my first Season out and I was swept up in the excitement of it all, the glamor and pageantry. When this handsome man began to court me, I convinced myself I could grow to love him. I had it all planned out to marry this nice man and live happily as friends throughout our marriage.”

  She began to toy with her table linen, twisting it in her hands as she spoke. “It feels like a dream now. The balls and musicales. The laughter and gaiety. The young ladies all looked so beautiful in their sparkling jewels, and silks and satins. The gentlemen all looked so handsome in black tie and tails. Everyone spoke of advantageous alliances. This marriage mart business leeches into one’s brain, doesn’t it? Especially when one is young and impressionable. I was too young to be out in Society. I understand that now.”

  She paused to glance at Marcus. “I didn’t want to have a come-out. Who would want me with my family in disgrace? My father insisted upon it. He hoped someone would take me, that I’d be married off quickly and kept out of the family troubles. A dear friend of my mother’s, Matilda, Duchess of Hartford, took me under her wing and sponsored me since my father could not.”

  She gave Marcus no chance to comment before she continued, her voice now filled with resolve. “We’ve gone off the point. No, I will not promise to sit by and do nothing while my father and brother meet their doom.”

  He regarded her calmly. “That isn’t the promise I sought.”

  She blushed, realizing she’d gone on and on like a fool while he’d waited patiently to get a word in edgewise. “Oh, what then?”

  “If things get tough and it looks as though they will…” He shifted his big body closer and caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger to keep her from turning away. Oh, heavens! The fierceness of this man could make the devil himself tremble. “I want you to promise me…”

  “I’ve just told you. I hate promises.” She pursed her lips in exasperation. “Can we not proceed without them?”

  His gaze did not falter. “No, Lara. We cannot.”

  She was unraveling again. She needed Marcus in more ways than she cared to admit. She was angry he sought to negotiate terms. How could he do this while her heart was breaking? Yet, even while angry with him, she wanted to fall into his arms and kiss him.

  She was angry that her body responded to him in ways she did not understand, nor did she wish to understand her feelings for him right now. “Fine, I’ll give you all the promises you want.” Slipping out of his grasp, she rose and took a step closer to his chair, her hands curled into fists. “I promise I will burn down that odious creature Dunning’s courthouse if I must.”

  He eased back in his chair. “Still not the promise I seek.”

  “Here’s another one for you then. I promise I
will take down Portsmouth Prison stone by stone if they lock up my brother there again.”

  “Are you done?”

  “No, I’m not done. I’m not nearly through raging.” Her chin wobbled. She was going to cry again. “Drat it, Marcus. Just say what it is you want from me.”

  Since she was standing, he must have considered it impolite to remain seated, so he rose as well. Only he was a full head taller than she was and seemingly built of solid rock. “Lara…”

  Oh, she could feel the roll of his tongue as he licked that “r”.

  “I want your promise that if we cannot save your father and brother–”

  “We will. We must.” The dastardly chin wobble resumed. Not going to cry. Never going to cry again.

  “I understand. We will do everything we can. But if we cannot save them, then you must save yourself.”

  She looked at him, stunned. “You expect me to abandon them?”

  “No, but you need to protect yourself. Your father was right in wanting this when he thrust you out into Society. This is why,” he said, taking her gently in his arms, “I must have your promise–”

  “Do you not listen? I don’t give promises.”

  “—to marry me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  MARCUS DUCKED AS a plate of eggs came flying at him. It flew over his head and shattered against the wall behind him. These Le Brecques, good lord! Hugh was not a man to be trifled with and it appeared his sister was not to be trifled with either.

  The silverware came at him next. “Lara! Stop.”

  When she curled her hand into a fist and appeared about to punch him, he pulled her hard against him, momentarily knocking the wind out of her and purposely pinning her arms to her sides. He tried to be gentle, but she was a virago, coming at him like a terrier after a rat, and it was all he could do to keep her from doing either of them damage.

  His head butler and footmen came tearing in at the sound of the crash. He refused to consider what this scene must look like to them, this young lady struggling desperately while he imprisoned her in his arms. “Calloway, get this mess cleaned up. Lady Lara and I shall finish our discussion in the study. We are not to be disturbed.”

  “Yes, my lord.” But the man was clearly not comfortable with his manhandling Lara. Several of his footmen had served under his command in the army and knew the sort of man he was. But Calloway had come with the Kinross title, and the townhouse, and the estate in Scotland.

  While his attention was on his butler, Lara kicked him hard in the shin.

  “Bollocks, Lara. Behave yourself.” He turned to Calloway. Although he owed his butler no explanations, he gave one anyway. “I know what this must look like to you. But rest assured, I shall not harm Lady Lara in any way. Nothing untoward shall ever go on in this house.”

  Lara kicked him again.

  “For pity’s sake, Lara! Is this how you intend to gain my cooperation?”

  He was holding her loosely and now allowed her to break free. Her eyes were blazing, tawny flames. Lord, the color of her eyes! Those flecks of green and gold were quite ensorcelling. Her hair was the color of molten honey, those silken strands threatening to spill from their pins. Her body…he’d changed his mind about it being scrawny. Her breasts were soft and lush, not that he was purposely acquainting himself with their delightful qualities, but she kept turning and twisting and rubbing against his arms. It was all he could do to keep from responding. “How dare you offer to marry me!”

  Calloway emitted a choking sound upon hearing the reason for her anger. “My lord,” he said with a nod, and turned to clean up the mess Lara had made.

  “Take it or leave it, Lara. But I will not help you unless we are clear on this term.” Of course, it was a damn lie. Hugh was his best friend. He’d walk through fire to save him. Whether Lara agreed to this or not, he meant to help. But if all else failed, he needed to protect her. The only way he knew how to do it was to marry her.

  He had to, for Hugh’s sake.

  He had to, for the sake of their father, the Earl of Stratton.

  Mostly, it was for Lara’s sake. “If they mean to do you harm, then the best way I know to keep you safe from they is to give you the protection of my name. You’ll have the support and loyalty of the entire Brayden family. I want your agreement on this, Lara.”

  The fight seemed to drain out of her. “How can I accept such terms? It will bring down your loved ones along with mine.”

  “Let me worry about that. Your safety is what matters. Hugh would expect no less of me. He would do the same if I had a sister in your predicament.”

  She scowled at him.

  “Promise me, Lara. You know I’m right.”

  Her eyes were still blazing.

  His body was still responding. This would be a problem, but one he could control. She was Hugh’s sister. All grown up and beautiful, but still his sister.

  “Yes,” she said so softly, he almost missed it. “I promise to marry you, but only after all other possibilities are exhausted. We must be at the very end, our backs to the wall.”

  She turned on her heels and stormed back into his study.

  He strolled in after her, giving her a moment to herself in the hope she would calm down. But he closed the door behind him on the chance she had not and there would be more shouting followed by tossing of objects. His staff had already been witness to enough of a spectacle. “Thank you, Lara. I’m glad you’ve agreed.”

  She was not smiling. “Must we put this in writing?”

  “No, I trust you. Your word is all I require.”

  “Then you have it.” She was still angry with him, it was obvious in the fiery fury reflected in her eyes. But she stuck out her hand, meaning for him to shake it as two businessmen would shake hands when concluding a deal.

  “No, Lara. A handshake will not do for this.” Marriage, for whatever reason they were entering into it, was no mere business transaction. “This agreement we shall seal with a kiss.”

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  He took the opportunity to lower his lips to hers and kiss her on her open mouth, intending a quick, chaste kiss. The notion flew out of his head the moment his lips molded to hers, for Lara had sweet, soft lips and a passionate nature. She responded with all the heat and fire pent up within her.

  She was furious, of course.

  He didn’t delude himself for a moment that she was succumbing to desire for him.

  She wanted to bite his tongue which he’d poked in there – that was not well done of him – but as he was about to draw away, her ire suddenly turned into something unexpectedly tender and far more dangerous.

  “Marcus,” she whispered, her confusion obvious as he wrapped his arms around her to press her body close to his when he ought to have been easing himself away.

  She kissed him back with a hunger he’d never imagined possible between them. Yet, there it was, both of them holding on to this kiss, both of them on a tense, taut thread, ready to unleash a hot torrent of desire.

  He crushed his lips to hers, his passion inflamed, but this was not what he wished to convey. Though in agony, he tempered the kiss, purposely gentling it. How he managed to steady himself was beyond him. His need for Lara was inexplicably wild and untamed. But he did not allow this kiss to be. Perhaps their next ones would be.

  But this one? He gentled this one, cupping her face in his palms and caressing the line of her jaw with his thumbs. I will protect you. I will save your family. This is what he hoped to convey.

  He was not pleased with himself, fearing the message she had likely received was I will ravish you. You must never trust me.

  To his relief, she did not appear overset when he summoned his willpower and ended the kiss. She drew back and studied him, managing a confused, but achingly sweet smile that quickened his heartbeat. “Do you kiss all your business associates this way?”

  “Only the ones I offer to marry.” His lips twitched in an almost smile in response.


  “And how many of those has there been?”

  He understood what she was asking. She was curious about whether he’d ever been in love before. But more important, if the worst happened and she was honor bound to marry him, would he be faithful to her? “No one has ever captured my heart, Lara. Nor will there ever be anyone but you once we marry.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Do you mean it?”

  Marcus nodded. “That is my promise to you. Should we marry, it will be a true marriage in every way. You will have my protection and my heart. I will remain faithful to you and respect you as my wife for all the days we are together on this earth.”

  He sighed. “Your chin is wobbling again.”

  “I know. I’ve been living in terror for so long, and now I’m trembling with relief. Thank you, Marcus. I truly mean it.”

  He took her hands in his. “Damn it, you’re shaking like a newborn lamb taking its first steps. Come closer to the fire and warm yourself. And you must still be hungry since you tossed more of your breakfast at me than you managed to put inside you.”

  She groaned. “Oh, I’m sincerely sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. I was ready to face yet another boring day until you came along.” He ran his thumb along her hand in a light caress. “Life with you shall never be boring, will it? I’ll ring for tea and cakes to be brought in.”

  She glanced out the window and saw the sky had lightened significantly since her arrival. “No, there isn’t time. I must return home before they notice I’m not in my bed.”

  He released her hands and stepped out of the study to call Calloway, for the man was probably standing close by, worried about Lara despite his assurances she would not come to harm. And there he was, pretending to wipe an imagined speck of dust on a table not two feet away. “Summon my carriage.”

  “At once, my lord.” Calloway lumbered off to do as instructed.

  Marcus returned to Lara, but purposely left the study door ajar. She was looking at him as though he was her savior knight. He was looking at her as though she was a luscious dessert. He could not entertain any sweet craving for the girl. He dared not. “I’ll take you as far as your mews. I assume this is how you’ve been sneaking in and out.”